Foam

It was a Friday night in August. I ran the clippers over my head leaving just enough to make out my hair color. I threw on my UFO's and an open back halter top. Double checked my make-up and made my way out the door. The D.C. night was thick and sticky as my made my way from the apartment to the bus stop. A quick hop on the 7A bus and I was on the subway headed downtown.

It was the start of my weekend ritual. My destination had gone through three name changes and a complete turnaround in sound, but I kept going. My own look and style seemed to change right in step. Did I change to keep up with the sceene, or was the sceene changing to keep up with me. My ego would like to think the latter. But I know all that happend is that my old tastes were no longer profatable, and I liked the new flavor that was offered in its place.

At first the parties still had an underground air to them. Lineups and promos were handed out on bad xeroxed copies outside local record shops to those who looked the part. Tickets to smaller clubs were sold through passwords, and obscure venue names. As the music became more popular, however, locations became more legit. The parties become more publicized, and with that the clientele changed. It used to be about the music, and everyone you met, always became your friend. It was kids throwing away the social masks they wore durring the day and regressing back to kindergarten acceptence of everyone they met. Even if it was just for the weekend. But now, a new element had began to show up. People who just wanted to be seen, who wanted to be able to say, "Guess where I went this weekend?" At first it didn't really bother me, after all they weren't on the dance floor. They weren't in the side rooms where we went to relax with new friends. They mostly just stood at the bar drinking the night away. But as more and more began to invade they began to spread out.

Tonight was a foam party. Set up on the patio out back was a large structure like a giant gateway. It stood about ten feet high and about six feet wide. Along the frame about every six inches was a nozzel that would spray bubble bath, or something like it, creating a giant wall of foam in the middle of the deck. The crowd would line up and dance thru it in one direction like a human carwash. Just the cure for a hot summer night. Anyway after dancing inside for about an hour, I decided to venture out and cool off outside in the foam. in just a few minutes I was soaked, and found a bench to catch my breath and dry off.

A girl in a wife beater and baggies came up and sat down next to me. After a few quick words; how ya doin, some night, first time? who's spinning? She asks me "Do you have cancer?" I thought she was asking me for a cigerette, so I said no.
"I think you have cancer."
"No," I said, "I don't smoke"
"No, cancer"
"What do you mean?" I asked, trying to figure out what she was talking about.
"Your head, why dont you have any hair"
"Because I shaved it"
"Why"
"What do you care?"
"I think you have cancer" she badgered. I realised that this conversation was going nowhere and got up. "I'll see you later" and started back towards the foam.

"Are you walking away from me"
I turned around, and quickly fell on my back, looking up at her standing over me, her fist stll extended.

A crowd coverd in white caps and fluffy bubbly beards drew around as I got to my feet. Their faces ranging from shock to anticipation.

"You gotta be kidding me?!"
"Come on cancer girl!"

My chest lightly throbbed from her first contact. I could see her eyes burn with liquid courage. This in turn ignited a fire within my own hazel gems. I saw security coming up, and this should have been the end of it. One problem. Not all my friends from my old crowd had made the switch like I did. While I had traded in my leather jacket and spikes in for a fleace hoodie and glow sticks, they kept their leathers and got jobs as bouncers.

They looked at me and shrugged.

I wanted to fight.

They let me.